Premarital Preview
by Lillidappler
Summary: "It's a shame," Yuuri says as soon as they step inside the hotel room, doffing his jacket. "I was really hoping that I'd place gold so we could get married. I even had a special outfit picked out, as a little preview for our wedding night." Reupload of a fic originally posted on AO3. NSFW.


"It's a shame," Yuuri says as soon as they step inside the hotel room, doffing his jacket. "I was really hoping that I'd place gold so we could get married."

Viktor raises an eyebrow in an imitation of surprise. "Oh?" He's still upset that Yuuri had refused to drink at the Grand Prix Banquet. Viktor had wanted to see Yuuri get into another dance off, but the man had shoved away all drinks Viktor pressed into his hands. The Russian was definitely _not_ sulking, nope.

"Yes. I even had a special outfit picked out, as a little preview for our wedding night."

Genuine surprise flits across Viktor's face. "A preview? You wouldn't want to get married as soon as possible?"

Yuuri looks as if Viktor's just slapped him across the face. "We both know that I view you as a living legend, and I truly do adore you, but do you really think I'm an easy guy?"

Viktor suddenly realizes that he has just said The Wrong Thing and that he is likely dealing with a very upset boyfriend.

"No! Not at all! I'm just surprised. The rings had been spur of the moment, so I had just assumed that our wedding might be the same."

Yuuri visibly relaxes and chuckles, his anxiety melting away. "Those really were just lucky charms. If I had known you would take it as a proposal, I would've bought you something much nicer."

He sits down in the office chair by the desk and rolls the chair over to the suitcase in the corner of the room. Yuuri pops open the lid to the suitcase and rummages around in it, digging through the clothing in search of something.

"No, I've actually always had this dream of what my wedding would be like ever since I was little. It would be high up, on a temple on a mountainside. Only our close friends and family would attend. It would be a small affair."

Viktor sits on the bed and rests his chin on his hand, smiling gently as he listened to Yuuri talk.

"A monk would marry us. I didn't really understand that Buddhism and Christianity were totally different things, and I had always imagined a Western-style wedding. So even though the vows are for the wrong religion, there'd be a bald monk conducting the ceremony."

Yuuri finds what he was looking for and pulls it out of the suitcase. Viktor perks up and tries to sneak a peek at the surprise Yuuri had in store. It is no use. Yuuri had safely hidden it inside of a very opaque black bag.

"You wait right there," Yuuri says, fiddling with the bag. "I'll be right back."

Yuuri rushes to the bathroom, leaving Viktor alone. Viktor is completely silent, trying to hear what Yuuri is doing. He can hear footsteps and some sort of material rustling. Is Yuuri wrapping the gift? How odd. Yuuri didn't seem like the type to wrap presents last-minute.

There are a few thumping noises, and something that sounds like an elastic band snapping, which entirely disproves Viktor's theory and confuses him. "Just a minute," Yuuri calls. A moment later, the man steps out of the bathroom and shyly creeps towards the bed, his bare feet shuffling against the carpet.

"Oh my god," Viktor whispers, unable to believe his eyes.

Yuuri is wearing what could best be described as a white leotard. A _sexy_ white leotard, at that. The shimmering cloth clung to Yuuri's every curve, hugging the feminine and enticing cinch of his waist and the luscious flare of his hips. A garter must've been under the leotard, because Viktor could see thin strips of silk holding up a pair of white thigh-highs. The lacy fabric of the thigh-highs had a floral pattern that swirled, the vines and leaves flowing artfully, leaving small, teasing gaps of tanned skin uncovered. The roses on the fabric were just buds, not yet fully mature, but just beginning to bloom. It was fitting, Viktor thought, eyes darting up to look at Yuuri's face. The man was biting his lips, not quite abashed or shy, but certainly... hesitant, demure, afraid that if he did something wrong, Viktor would bolt.

Yuuri gave a small turn, letting Viktor see the back of his outfit. The Russian man felt his mouth go dry.

The back of the leotard dipped low in a "U" shape, revealing an expanse of Yuuri's skin that Viktor had only seen before when soaking in the onsen with Yuuri. He could count the moles on Yuuri's supple skin, lean right forward and run his tongue down his lover's spine, but that wasn't what had made Viktor feel like he was about to suffocate.

In the back, the leotard was little more than a thong. The fabric did nothing to hide the swell of Yuuri's ass, and those perfect, juicy globes were just inches from Viktor's face. It would be so easy, so, so easy, to reach out and touch Yuuri, to sink his hands into the plush flesh of his ass, then run his hands down over those thick, beautiful thighs...

"Why aren't you saying anything?" Yuuri asks, his voice scratchy, as if he's about to cry. "Is it weird? Do I look fat? Oh god, this must be so awkward for you, I'll just go-"

"No!" Viktor interrupts, grabbing Yuuri's wrist before the Japanese man could panic and bolt. "It's not that. It's just-"

Viktor gives Yuuri a small grin, gently guiding his hand over until the palm of Yuuri's hand rests on top of Viktor's crotch. Yuuri's eyes widen with realization.

"I was just so taken aback by how beautiful you are, I wasn't sure what to say," Viktor explains. "This is wonderful. I love it. I love _you._ Thank you."

He glances down at his groin, then up at Yuuri, giving his lover a wry look. "See what you've done to me? Without so much as a touch, you've already got me so worked up."

Yuuri snaps out of his self-doubt and steps back, a forced semblance of mischief on his face. Yuuri isn't the best actor, but Viktor pretends to be intimidated.

"Good. I have another little surprise prepared for you, but you have to promise not to dance me." Yuuri immediately realized his mistake and curses in Japanese. "No touching me," he corrects.

"Is the surprise a dance?" Viktor asks, feeling cheeky.

"Hush, you."

Yuuri walks over to the desk and taps at his phone. A song begins to play, low, bass-heavy, sensual. He sways to the music, running his hands over his chest, down his stomach, over his thighs. He hooks a thumb under the hem of one of the thigh-highs and tugs the fabric down, revealing more of the tanned skin of Yuuri's full thighs.

He releases it and the garter snaps the stocking back into place. Yuuri turns around, giving Viktor a perfect view of his ass. He sways some more, then kneads the flesh of his ass, the skin going white from the pressure. Viktor can feel himself grow harder at the sight.

He cups those perfect, round globes and spreads them apart, allowing Viktor to get a better view of the thong wedged in Yuuri's crack. Viktor momentarily curses the outfit. Without the fabric of the thong in the way, Viktor would have a perfect view of Yuuri's cute little pucker. The Russian man has little time to bereave the loss, however, as before long, the taunting sight disappears as Yuuri squats.

Yuuri is crouching, his legs spread, his hands on his kneecaps to give him support. He bounces up and down to the beat of the music, and Viktor lets out a lusty groan. It looks as if Yuuri is fucking himself on an invisible dick, and Viktor is overwhelmed by a sudden surge of desire.

Yuuri stands, sauntering over to the edge of the bed. "You can strip, if you like," he says, "but keep on your underwear. Don't touch yourself and sit in the middle of the bed."

Viktor hurriedly complies, throwing off his all of his clothing and sits in the middle of the bed, eagerly awaiting the next part of the routine.

Yuuri crawls onto the bed, the look on his face downright _predatory_ , eyes half-lidded and lips curled into a smirk. Under different circumstances, Viktor would've felt proud of Yuuri's newfound confidence, but at the moment, he's too stupefied to feel anything but aroused.

One hand on Viktor's thigh for support, Yuuri stands on the bed. His footing on the soft mattress is a bit shaky at first, but he eventually finds his balance.

Yuuri's crotch is right in Viktor's face, allowing the Russian to see that Yuuri is every bit as achingly hard as Viktor. His cock is still confined in the leotard, but Viktor can still see it through the white fabric, engorged and heavy. All Viktor wants to do is lean forward and pull off the offending clothing and suck Yuuri off, but his lover seems to have other ideas.

"No touching," Yuuri reminds him, gripping Viktor's shoulders. He crouches again, this time, his ass brushing against Viktor's erection. Viktor groans in anguish.

"If I can't touch you, can I at least have a kiss?"

Yuuri chuckles, slowly thrusting his hips back and forth so that Viktor's clothed cock teases the crack of his ass. "I'm pretty sure kissing counts as touching. But maybe if you ask nicely..."

"Please, please please _please_ let me kiss you, Yuuri."

Yuuri wets his lips, then leans forward and kisses Viktor. It's slow and sensual, just like the music, languid and relaxed. Yuuri's tongue delves into Viktor's mouth, exploring the nooks and crannies of the wet cavern. Viktor moans in surprise- usually he was the one leading the kisses- and reciprocates, his own tongue tangling around Yuuri's.

When Yuuri pulls away, they're both panting and a string of saliva connects their tongues, dangling in a lazy arc. It's lewd, and Viktor wishes that he could take a picture of it and record just how beautiful Yuuri looks, his face flushed and his cute pink tongue peeking out from parted lips.

But Yuuri closes his lips and shakes his head, destroying the dreamlike image. He stands, then turns around and crouches again. Viktor wonders if this is part of the routine's plan or if Yuuri is just being shy.

It's part of the plan, he decides. Yuuri continues the lapdance, swirling his hips so that his ass brushes against Viktor's cock. His hands rest on the mattress on either side of him, though occasionally Yuuri props himself up using only one hand so he can grope his asscheeks, giving them little slaps that make the flesh jiggle and Viktor's head spin.

"Yuuri," Viktor croaks warningly, his voice husky from arousal. "Yuuri, if you keep this up, I'm gonna-"

"It's okay," Yuuri says, glances over his shoulder with a wry grin. "Come for me, baby."

He grinds down hard on Viktor, and before long, Viktor is coming with a breathy moan of Yuuri's name. He watches Yuuri turn around, and stares at Viktor, and expectant look on his face.

"Was it good?" he asks.

Viktor scoffs, as if Yuuri has just asked a stupid question. "Wonderful. Fantastic. Amazing. I swear, the stars shifted tonight."

He tenderly touches the strap of Yuuri's leotard, tugging at it gently. "Do you want to continue? I came, but you haven't yet, it seems." Viktor pointedly glances at Yuuri's achingly hard cock trapped beneath the fabric of the leotard.

"Fine," Yuuri says, beginning to peel off his leotard. "You can get me off, okay? But I was serious when I said that this was just a preview of our wedding night. I want to save the actual penetrative stuff for when we get married."

Viktor tilts his head, thinking on Yuuri's words. Would a blowjob count as penetrative? Well, he supposes that "body parts in holes" counted as penetrative.

"Fine," Viktor assents, watching as Yuuri peels off the thigh-highs. Once his lover is naked and ready, sitting cross-legged on the bed, Viktor grasps Yuuri's cock, giving it one slow, gently stroke. He stares at the Japanese man, gauging his reaction.

Yuuri nods slightly, encouraging Viktor to continue.

Viktor proceeds with his ministrations, tracing a finger along the veins on the underside of Yuuri's cock. His lover groans and clasps a hand over his mouth, embarrassed by the noises he's making. Viktor leaves him be and strokes his cock, pumping the shaft slowly. Precome is dribbling from the slit on the head and Viktor thumbs at it, wiping it off. It's enough to push Yuuri over the edge. He comes with a choked gasp of "Viktor," then proceeds to flop down on the bed.

Viktor chuckles and peels his soiled underwear off from himself. He wipes down Yuuri with the less sticky parts of the fabric, getting the release off from the skater's chest, then snuggles in under the bedsheets next to Yuuri.

"So that was a preview, huh? You better win gold soon so we can get married and have more fun, then."

Yuuri's eyes scrunch up into little crescents of tired amusement. "Hey now. You act like it'll take me forever to get gold. I'll definitely win it next year."

"Mmmm," Viktor hums, placing a kiss on Yuuri's nose. "Hey. What would happen next?"

Yuuri gives him a perplexed look. "What?"

"What would happen next? In your little dream of getting married. The Buddhist monk would hold the ceremony, and then what?"

Yuuri beams at him, delighted that Viktor was asking about his story. "There would be the ceremony, and then a small party. We'd eat cake and dance, and when it was all over, our friends and family would go home. We'd stay at the temple our first night together, in a bedroom on the topmost floor. We would open the window and look down, and we would see the earth stretching before us, and we would know that it belonged to the two of us, together."

"That's a beautiful dream," Viktor murmurs, stroking Yuuri's hair.

Yuuri yawns, and snuggles into Viktor's chest. "Mmm. A good dream..."


End file.
